|photo by anna|
My doctor says I need to change my diet,
maybe gluten-free, to curb the toxins, of too much
cause we like that,
maybe feel that
is not good enough, won't last long enough --
so we have to find ways to sustain it,
until coal rims our sockets,
a night-shade deeper than shadow, like a lioness
with belladonna in her eyes
My psychiatrist says "There is a pill for that."
Like an app. Apps and pills, perhaps
there is a correlation there.
My friends say, "That's fucked up."
and are not too far from the truth,
no more than any of us are.
it seems we need maps, like the ones at malls,
with big yellow dots.
The yellow dots say, You are here.
Of this we can be sure,
the heart makes the simplest things
so damn complicated.
A lost love found me, in you - like it followed
a dotted line across the ocean to the island w/the 'X'
put a spade to earth of my chest
until it hit a treasure box,
and opening the lid - flooded me
like a lone streetlight amongst the darkness
I am not content --
to be here,
a dot on a map,
doped up on a pill full with denial,
lost in an app, over-processed
There is no choice to the madness
that makes me see your face in every scoop of mash potatoes,
lay willingly down on the tracks to feel the hum
along my body as the train
build houses of poems to bed down with vowels.
I search license plates for secret messages
to leave on your pillow.
When it rains, my feet get wet in you
& the sun are your finger tips, (or should it be is?)
I am tipsy,
I am drunk,
I make no sense ---
that is this,